Most Loyal, Most Faithful
by Cszemis
Summary: “I don’t trust you, Snape, as you very well know!” Does Bella still have a reason to distrust Snape, even when he returns exalted for his actions in the lightning struck tower? And can Snape even trust himself?


**Title:** Most Loyal, Most Faithful

**Author:** Cszemis

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** "I don't trust you, Snape, as you very well know!" Does Bella still have a reason to distrust Snape, even when he returns exalted for his actions in the lightning struck tower? And can Snape even trust himself?

* * *

"Snape. Snape," Bellatrix Lestrange was pacing the floor, incensed, "Severus Snape! If I hear his name one more time I am going to scream."

She cast a furious glance in the direction of her nephew who refused to look at her, his eyes emptily staring towards the floor, puffy and bloodshot. Draco seemed paler than usual and he let out a small cough, exhaustion painting his features before he became expressionless once more.

The pair were standing outside the chamber of the Dark Lord, not because they had been summoned, but because Bella's paranoia regarding a certain ex-teacher of Hogwarts forced her to confront Severus Snape every time he met with her master.

In the weeks after Dumbledore's death, the potions master had been heralded as Voldemort's most loyal and his most able servant. Nearly everyone had forgotten that the honours should have been given to young Malfoy. His conscience and his fear had finally caught up with Draco when he stood before Dumbledore and now he was merely another inductee to the Death Eaters, barely worth a glance.

"What is taking them so long?" Bella clasped her wand tightly in one hand, her mind ready with a million hexes that she longed to aim at Snape's back, "what could they possibly be talking about now?"

She glowered at her nephew once again, and Draco nearly winced under her disappointment, looking tall and pained in his new black robes. His blonde hair glinted in the candlelight, giving him the rather disconcerting appearance of a ghost but Bella barely noticed. While she was still furious at the situation, she had taken Draco back under her wing and was more determined than ever to have him proclaimed the most able young Death Eater, the most talented, the most intelligent…

Draco did not feel like he was any of those things and preferred to stay in the background as much as possible. For years he had strutted, ruling over Hogwarts like a prince, desperately over confident in his abilities and his own self worth. Now he merely felt like an outsider, like he was intruding in places he didn't belong, even if his relatives expected him to revel in the life of darkness. Dumbledore's words had made too much of an impact. His whole life had been the path into darkness, he had never been expecting another path and nor had anyone else. He did not need much persuasion to join the Death Eaters. And now, Bella had realised grimly, the old fool's words had presented Malfoy with a different road. She had seen it in his mind.

"…_I can help you, Draco… come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine… you are not a killer…"_

She had not revealed this knowledge to anyone and avoided the Dark Lord's eye if she felt like the topic of Draco's failure was going to come up. Thankfully it had not as Voldemort was rejoicing over the death of his feared enemy. In Bella's mind, she could almost imagine her master dancing on Dumbledore's grave when he took over Hogwarts, and she could already hear his insane laughter.

The rest of her comrades viewed Severus Snape with far more reverence and respect than she felt he deserved; he would not have killed Dumbledore if it had not been for the Unbreakable Vow. With the choice between saving his own skin and the life of that muggle lover, killing Dumbledore was barely a choice. And it was no cause for him to be celebrated beyond all others. The rumours about his loyalty (or lack there of) had stopped, even when Bella tried to bring the issue back to the forefront. The rest of the Death Eaters viewed the whole thing as a joke, and laughed at her paranoia.

"He's not worth any of this," Bella's eyes would have stung with tears if she knew how to cry, "he's not worth anything! He was saving his own neck!"

Draco looked up at her and shrugged, leaning against the wall. He was in no position to praise nor criticise his former teacher. He was beginning to contemplate whether he owed Severus a life debt for helping him escape Hogwarts, for defeating Dumbledore when he could not, for saving him from the Dark Lord's wrath. And his parents, did they owe their lives to Severus Snape as well?

Bella strode over and pulled Draco upright, grabbing his chin tightly, "Keep your pride boy. Your blood is far purer than the common Death Eater. You got them into Hogwarts, it was your cunning that led to that old fool's death, and if you can't take pride in that then you're of no use to your Master."

Draco kept his chin up but he kept his gaze expressionless and for a few moments Bella felt like she was looking into the face of the man she loathed, his intentions unreadable behind those unfathomable black eyes.

She released his face as if she had been burned and stared furiously at the door that separated her from the master and the spy, they were only a few metres away and she could not get to them.

"I am his most loyal, his most able," her voice shook with barely suppressed rage. She was suppressing the urge the blast down the door and slaughter that traitor at her master's feet, the only thing stopping her was Voldemort's rage if she dared do such a thing.

"Can we go?" Malfoy had no real desire to see Snape again, it was bad enough suffering the disappointment from his aunt, the dismissal of the Dark Lord without having to put up with Snape's cold, hard stare as well.

"I have to know what's being said!" Bella hissed at him, her eyes flashing.

"Why?"

"Because! I am his most loyal servant! How can I serve him if I don't know what slimy little toad has been up to?"

Malfoy gave her a funny look that clearly showed he was doubting his aunt's sanity when the door swung open. The pair snapped to attention, Bella's wand at the ready and Draco, tired but anxious.

Clothed entirely in long black robes, Severus Snape gave most people the impression of an overgrown bat. But his face was cruel and sullen, his large hook nose made him seem like he was always sneering and his eyes remained expressionless and yet all knowing. He stared at Bellatrix Lestrange's furious face before he swept past Draco and down the corridor.

Bella looked into the room that Snape had just vacated, but instead of going inside, she hurried along in his wake, following the potions master. Draco merely sighed and followed at a distance, silently pleading that his aunt was not about to make a scene again.

As Snape and Bella strode down the corridor they passed several other Death Eaters, some of which stared curiously behind glinting masks, others delightfully amused by Bella's fury. And when Snape did not slow down she reached out and grabbed one of his sleeves and swung him around to face her. A smile twitched at the lips of the half blood Prince.

"It is a great pleasure to see you again, Lestrange," Snape bowed his head a fraction, "and what is so important that you see fit to tug at my robes like a temperamental child?"

"What are you telling him?" Bella demanded, "what tales are you spinning now?"

"My dear Bella," Snape tutted, "I really thought you were past all this."

"I know that you're not loyal!" Bella stormed, "You'd still be at Hogwarts if you hadn't made the Unbreakable Vow!"

"Of course," Snape said, "Your Master would not have asked me to leave my post."

"You killed Dumbledore to save yourself!" Bella was almost shouting.

"Again, your master had not asked me to sacrifice myself just so Dumbledore could breathe freely. Be rational, Lestrange."

"You think you're so powerful and dangerous," Bella argued, "you parade around here like an arrogant little prince. Your head has become so swollen…"

"I am not arrogant," Snape said quickly, narrowing his eyes.

"You are! You are an arrogant little half blood and nothing you ever do or say will ever change that. Filthy, disgusting, arrogant little half blood."

"My father was an unfortunate aspect of my life, yes," Snape dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand, "but if the Dark Lord does not protest then you cannot. He is half blood as well, and as his favourite I'm sure you are aware of that curious piece of information."

Bellatrix bit her lip, banishing the idea from her mind. She refused to give Snape peace.

"Why am I the only one here that sees the truth?"

"What truth is this?"

"That you can't be trusted!" She pointed her wand at him, "once a traitor, always a traitor!"

Snape sighed loudly, shaking his head and when he spoke his voice was heavily patronising, "You really must learn to control these wild delusions, dear Bella. A Death Eater caught up in her own nightmares is of no use to the Dark Lord."

He turned away from her after glancing at Draco's pale face, intent in putting as much distance between himself and Lord Voldemort's most fanatically loyal servant.

"You are not the Dark Lord's favourite!" she declared to his retreating form.

The Half Blood Prince stopped, all was suddenly still.

Snape slowly turned on the spot and all those gathered there shrunk back from his gaze. His eyes sought Bella's and they narrowed maliciously.

"The Dark Lord's favourite?" he sneered, "is that all you worry about?"

Bella brought herself to her full height and glared back at him, "Killing Dumbledore is not the equivalent of spending fourteen years in Azkaban!"

"I agree with you. One of those was actually useful."

The Death Eater clenched her fists as Snape continued to stand there, his expression malevolent and vindictive. He even dared to laugh.

"I," Bella hissed at him, "I sought him out; I tried to bring him back! And I rotted away for him rather than present a nice face to the public."

With his lank hair hanging around his face, Snape continued to sneer, "We'll leave that complaint for Lucius, shall we?"

"No," Bella began, "Do you even realise what it looks like; from Dumbledore's trusted ally to the Dark Lord's pet? You look like a traitor, just a coward. Cowards can't scare anyone. Your sad devotion to that ancient muggle lover has not helped the Dark Lord destroy Harry Potter, nor has it brought us closer to ridding the world of the mudbloods."

Severus Snape lowered his voice and something in his eyes glinted with cruelly, "You know what you look like to me, with your pretty face and your outdated dreams? You look like a fool. Your breeding allows to you boast that you're pure blood, but you're not more than one generation from muggle loving scum, are you? And spending fourteen years in prison only displays your uselessness. You detest the public face but you could have done far more for our Lord by remaining free to search for him than have your pretty face sucked of all its youth. What was it like in Azkaban, nights stretching ahead of you, your fears and weaknesses tearing at your soul while the Dark Lord remained alone and friendless in some distant land? And every moment of every day you could only dream of getting out... getting anywhere... trapped inside the horror of your own mind."

"I didn't… I'm not…" Bella began, completely taken by surprise, a few truths hitting home.

"Clearly… loyalty isn't everything, Lestrange," Snape mocked her.

Bellatrix's eyes widened and then rage began to seep back into her features. She raised her wand hand and was already beginning to think of a suitable curse.

_Cruc-_

Snape waved his wand and barely flinched, casting a shielding charm.

"You are rather too fond of that one, anyone can see it coming from a mile away."

He pointed his wand back at her and merely thought the word _langlock_; instantly Bella's hand flew to her jaw, her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. She moaned furiously and tried to curse him again but Draco Malfoy had already caught a hold of her wrist and pulled it away.

"I see your nephew has some sense," Snape sneered, "pity it's not genetic. Such a long time in Azkaban, wasn't it?"

Bella screeched wordlessly, she could not speak, her tongue was stuck.

"I would like to suggest that you stay out of my way in future, Lestrange, any attempts to confront me or curse me again and I'll make sure the Dark Lord knows I was not responsible for my retaliation."

Bellatrix continued to struggle with her nephew, trying to point it at him desperately, mentally shrieking the Cruciatus curse.

"And Malfoy," Snape looked away from Bella's hateful face, "I would ask your uncle Rodolphus to keep a closer eye on his wife; perhaps she needs to learn her place."

Draco did not nod, he didn't dare to when his aunt was in such a fury. But he could have sworn that his old teacher looked almost sympathetically at him before Severus turned back to Bella.

"This is your last chance, Lestrange. Stay out of my way or you shall suffer the consequences."

There was no need for Legilimency or anything like that; Bella's hateful stare told Snape everything he needed to know. He turned on his heel and billowed back down the corridor, feeling the mental daggers from Bella's eyes in his back as he strode off.

And Bella could only watch him go, humiliated, defeated.

And her tongue was not freed for several hours.

* * *

The Half Blood Prince lived anonymously in a muggle street named Spinner's End, and as Severus made his way through the labyrinth of seemingly deserted brick houses he could feel a presence. Wizards had been here, the ministry had been here.

He stood staring at his home from the end of the street, taking in the dilapidated houses and rusty fences with a disapproving glare, disgusted by the smell from the dirty river that permeated the place. He cast a glance over his doorway, listening, sniffing, trying to determine how long it had been since his home had been invaded.

Quite some time apparently as his home remained still and silent. The wards he had put up ages ago rang alarm bells in his mind but they seemed faded, as if the intruder had long gone. So with a hand prepared to dive into his pocket for his wand he set back off down the street, the tingle of old magic welcoming him home.

Inside he could smell that other people had been here. Even before entering his sitting room he could smell the used Floo power and detect that some of his potion ingredients had been tampered with, exposed to the air, allowed to rot away. When he entered the tiny sitting room he could only glare at his wreck of a library collection; his books had been strewn all over the floor and his chairs were several metres away from their original places. Like someone had quickly searched his place for other signs of treason and then could not care less about tidying up.

A few of his books were missing, and the hidden stairwell where Wormtail had liked to listen and hide was blasted apart completely; Severus could detect that his other rooms had been tampered with. It was with cool indifference that Snape tidied up his home. His kitchen was in a worse state, dishes smashed all over the floor, reminding him instantly of the Auror Tonks. Had she been here looking for him?

Dishes, tables and chairs were fixed with a flick of his wand, and all his earthly possessions leapt back into their places as if they had been caught doing something naughty. A copy of the Daily Prophet fluttered onto the rickety table in his sitting room to wait for him while he sorted the rest of the house in a matter of minutes. Quite a few of his things were gone, books and potion ingredients mostly; Severus Snape was not the sort of person to leave questionable objects in his home.

He sank into his armchair and stared at the front cover of the wizard newspaper. It was a few weeks old, as if someone had left it deliberately behind to remind him of his crime. The headline announced the death of Albus Dumbledore and there was a long article detailing the scandalous events surrounding the murder, the invasion of the Death Eaters and how a teacher had been forced to run from the school. There was no mention of who the murderer or the teacher were, but that did not matter as they were the same person, and the Daily Prophet seemed keen not to provoke violence amongst the grieving public that would probably hunt down the killer.

Amongst the pictures of the mourning, a boy with messy black hair and round glasses was shown, seemingly unaware of his existence in the photo. He stared determinedly at the tomb, his face contorting with rage and then into pale grief; the picture was slightly blurry but the boy's eyes almost seemed to fill up. He returned to his determination and then back into his rage, playing a never ending loop of complicated emotions for ever more.

Severus studied the picture with a knowing eye, running a finger along Harry Potter's grief stricken face for a moment. Potter had always worn his emotions publicly and a sneer began to creep into Snape's features before he resisted it.

"I am not a coward," he told the picture, as Harry's face contorted with rage once more.

"You think I am, but you could not possibly comprehend the life I have led, nor understand what it is like to serve two masters."

The boy with messy hair tightened his jaw with determination as if he was waiting for a full explanation, and as Snape was entirely alone he saw no reason not to offer one.

"You are right entirely not to trust me. I am not capable of being trusted, nor do I have any right to be. The only man who ever trusted me completely was murdered by my own hand and I have disappointed nearly everyone in my life. My father saw me as one of those worthless wizard scum that had invaded his muggle life and my mother learned to hate me when my mere existence worked him into a rage that he took out on her.

"Hogwarts was an escape for me, like it was for yourself and I have no regrets regarding my school years. I do not regret the many times I hexed your arrogant father and his furry friends and I care little for yours. You all made me the subject of your contempt enough times for me to be unable to care if you were hurt by anything I said or did, and I don't care still. If you were able to deflate your Gryffindor ego a little bit then you would understand this perfectly.

"But you can be useful to me, Harry Potter," Snape called upon his excellent memory, "_the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_"

Snape had heard more of the prophecy than Dumbledore believed, and more than the Dark Lord realised. He had hidden the fact that he knew "_either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives" _because something all those years ago had told him not to. And now the knowledge was like the most wondrous light in his mind, a beacon to all those that wished to see the Dark Lord fall.

He had begun to realise over the years that perhaps Fate had told him not to reveal that little portion of the prophecy as frustration and pressure from Lord Voldemort had led Severus Snape back into the waiting, accepting arms of Albus Dumbledore. And Fate had given him many uneventful years at Dumbledore's side as a reward. The Dark Lord fell, the wizarding world became calm, a young boy was safely stowed away with some muggles and for once in Severus Snape's life he felt like he had a purpose. Not one that he wanted, but satisfactory enough to keep him content and safe.

All of that changed when Harry Potter stepped into the halls of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It could not have been coincidence that Snape's nearly peaceful existence was shattered by both Mr Potter and the Dark Lord. Both surfaced at almost exactly the same time, almost as if Voldemort could sense Harry's growing powers through their unique bond and had been subconsciously inspired to seek power once again. Quirrell had ended up dead, ravaged by Voldemort and killed by Harry. The Chamber of Secrets had opened once again and all fingers had pointed at Slytherin house, their bad history tarnishing the reputation of anyone who ended up there. His old enemies found themselves literally on his doorstep, Lupin and Black back together to cause mischief and mayhem, Wormtail ran off to resurrect the Dark Lord and Snape once again found himself on an uncertain path.

"Damn you Potter!" Severus gripped the newspaper, and glared at the teenager who glared back at him, "why did you have to be so incredibly stupid?"

He was about to fling the newspaper across the room when his eye found a picture of Albus Dumbledore, smiling serenely up at him. There was a twinkle in his eye that seemed to warn Snape about his terrible temper and Snape's anger almost receded. He stared into that caring, wizened face and felt a horrible pang in his chest.

"Albus…" Snape rarely called Dumbledore by his first name; he had too much respect for him to do that.

Severus scrunched his face up in pain and dropping the newspaper, he hid himself between his long fingers. No one could see him anyway but he did not care for showing emotions. In his mind's eye he repeated the night in the tower, hating himself, repulsed as he remembered Dumbledore's face, trying to imagine Voldemort's horrified expression instead of that old man.

Why had he bluffed to Bellatrix and Narcissa? Why did he pretend to know what Draco had been asked to do? He had thought it was a gift of an opportunity to find out what Voldemort's plans were and now he was completely ensnared in them. Why did he not refuse the Unbreakable Vow, why did he have to end up there in that tower with Dumbledore at his mercy?

The answer was simple and Dumbledore had revealed it to him; to make Voldemort think he was still loyal to him.

They had many arguments on the issue. Snape was beginning to tire of his double agent role and felt like he was being pushed further and further into a situation in which he had to choose or die. And despite what it looked like, despite what he had done, he had chosen Dumbledore.

He had saved Malfoy's soul and his life, taken the boy with him as they fled from Hogwarts, saved as many Death Eaters as he could to ensure Voldemort thought he was loyal, so he could remain a spy. But what was the point when there was no longer anyone to report to? There was no way in hell he could approach the Order again, even unarmed and on bended knee. They would never trust him, they would kill him first. And even if there was some mystical, magical two way mirror that would allow him to talk to the Order without being hexed it was entirely likely the mirror would get smashed if he appeared in it.

There was only one person he could count on as a sort of ally but he could not be sure if Draco would help him as far as the life debt allowed and then leave him to Voldemort's rage. He realised in his escape that it was the Unbreakable Vow that pushed him forward. He realised then that Dumbledore had appealed to Draco in the same way he had once appealed to a young Severus Snape. And Draco had been tempted; it had become impossible for him to kill the headmaster.

There was a chance that Draco had reverted back to his usual cocky self, completely influenced by his father and the life planned for him. But when Snape looked into his eyes he saw the same despair, that same little-boy-lost expression that he wore once. It was the same expression that Harry Potter wore on the front cover of the Daily Prophet.

Snape had saved Harry Potter, even though the insufferable little brat did not even realise it. Those Death Eaters could have killed him at any moment, two words and Harry Potter's life would have ended with Dumbledore's. But he didn't allow that to happen, he didn't even let them torture Potter. He told them that Potter belonged the Dark Lord, and indeed he did, he was the only way Voldemort could die and Snape had bellowed words of advice even as the furious teenager threw everything at him.

_Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!_

He had lost his temper when Potter used his own spells against him and it took him all his control not to blast the youth into infinity when he declared him a coward. That had hurt him more than he ever thought it would. Harry Potter knew nothing about reporting to Lord Voldemort, forced to kneel, forced to look into that horrible face as the Dark Lord invaded your private thoughts with only his mind, tearing apart your dreams, scorning your fears. Harry Potter had never been forced to murder those that he did not want to, or spy on his students or make Unbreakable Vows. Harry Potter did not know what it was like to serve one master and yet swear allegiance to another.

He felt horribly guilty in the fact that one aspect of him enjoyed the fact that Dumbledore's heavy influence had gone. Severus Snape was only a few steps away from becoming his own man, if only Potter could find the intelligence and the power to do what he had foretold to do. If only he wasn't such a dunderhead.

Everything was beginning to fall into place, and Snape could hear Fate snapping the pieces of some terrible jigsaw puzzle together. Harry was alive and well, armed with the knowledge he needed to destroy Voldemort. The teachers at Hogwarts had survived the Death Eater attack so they could continue teaching magic and provide a safe haven for the most vulnerable members of the wizarding community. Draco Malfoy had not committed murder, he was still quite innocent, just misguided. And Voldemort was confiding voluntarily, earnestly to a man that did not deserve the favouritism.

But there was no Dumbledore. There was no leader. Would the Order fracture or would it rally behind Harry or find new leadership behind the likes of Moody or Weasley? Would Hogwarts even remain open? Would the Ministry see beyond red tape and politics to understand what had to be done? Could Harry Potter really discover a way to destroy Voldemort and would Snape ever be free to live his own life?

Or would he end up in a situation that could destroy all hope once more?

"You are entirely right, Bella," Snape removed his face from his hands and looked once again into the smiling, caring face of Albus Dumbledore, "I can't be trusted. I can't even trust myself to do the right thing. I've been two people for so long that I can no longer remember who Severus Snape, _the half blood Prince_, is supposed to be."

He could only hope that Fate would bring him back to a moment that would see Voldemort's downfall. He could only watch out for Draco and try to think of a way to bring him back to the light. He could only promise Harry's determined face that in the final battle Voldemort would find himself with two less allies than he believed and Harry with two less enemies to face.

But he could not promise that he could be trusted.

* * *

Did you like this? Enjoy this? Please let me know before JK updates and makes the whole thing worthless. 


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